


The Son's to Bear

by Carmenlire



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Edom Angst (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Mind Games, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 03:38:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18003089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmenlire/pseuds/Carmenlire
Summary: “Sooner or later, we all must return to the houses of our fathers. You’re lucky that yours is so benevolent, Magnus. I know it will take time for you to come around.”Asmodeus steps closer and Magnus stands still through sheer force of will as his father tilts his head up with a finger under his chin.“Lucky for us both then that we have all the time in the world, isn’t it?”Or, Magnus relearns a lesson the hard way.





	The Son's to Bear

With a wave of his hand, a viewing window opens on the wall, allowing Asmodeus to watch his son unobtrusive.

He sees matted hair, greasy and unkempt. There are circles under his eyes, dark bruising that betrays his bone-deep exhaustion. Laying limp in his bed-- with its Egyptian cotton and hand-woven duvet-- Magnus looks broken.

It’s a sight for sore eyes and Asmodeus drinks the scene in hungrily.

He’d tried. Lilith knew that he’d tried his damnedest to mold Magnus into the man-- the _king_ \-- he was born to be. He’d known from the moment his son was born, wails echoing around the little village he’d slipped through several months earlier-- that this would be his heir. None of his other children had ever been so powerful from the start. From Edom, Asmodeus could feel the strength in the babe, the magic already so bold and strong.

When he’d visited the little house on the outskirts of the village, he’d crept through the house as silent as a shadow. He’d frowned at the little mementos that mundanes liked to scatter around their homes-- bibles and trinkets and wasteful possessions.

Following the beckoning of the blood in his veins, Asmodeus had found the child swathed in cotton and sleeping peacefully, thumb in its mouth and expression serene.

He’d stared down at his son for long moments, cataloging the dark hair and tawny complexion. Suddenly, the child shifted in his sleep, reaching out to Asmodeus before opening eyes that were identical to his own.

Captivated, Asmodeus has slowly reached his own hand out, allowing his son to wrap a little fist around his finger. Paternal pride had clenched his chest at the power contained in such a little body. Asmodeus could detect the magic running through the child and it was potent. 

Asmodeus had stood over the crib for hours, watching his son sleep while his mind churned with plans. Lost in thought, he’d stayed until the night sky started giving way for dawn’s weak light and he heard the stirring of the house on the other side of the door. 

It had been nothing to keep a watchful eye on that corner of the world and when he’d heard rumblings about a little boy wreaking devastation in a tiny village, Asmodeus had known it was time.

The boy-- soon enough, _Magnus_ \-- had been distrustful, frightened. Asmodeus had coaxed him closer, though, with a sincere smile and gentle touch. He’d waited for his son to accept him, to welcome him, to reach for him before whisking the two of them away from this pocket of the world.

The next decades had been everything Asmodeus had hoped. He’d honed Magnus’s magic and watched as his son grew into his power, as he wielded devastation on his own terms and not as an act of fear.

And what devastation it had been.

In some places, there are still whispers of _The Great Destruction_. Asmodeus’s tutelage had been as complete as it had been uncompromising. Magnus learned to control his magic until it was second nature. Mercy wasn’t a concept the boy had known and he’d watched, time and time again, as Magnus destroyed villages and punished the people who scorned him, who shrank back in terror at eyes that should have instead commanded respect and awe.

Still, he’d failed. As Asmodeus watches the way Magnus seems to sink into the bed, listless and disgusting with it, he shakes his head mournfully.

Somewhere, he’d gone wrong. Magnus had turned against him, against the father he’d never had but always wanted, against the one person who would have given him the world on a gold-plated platter.

He still remembers the day Magnus had turned his back on his legacy. It had seared through him, a maelstrom of disbelief and rage and sorrow. He doesn’t know where he went wrong, just that Magnus had sworn that he’d never become his father-- as if that was a bad thing, as though it was shameful to fall into Asmodeus’s shadow.

But look where they are now, Asmodeus thinks with a slow, private grin.

His son never learns. His spirit is indomitable but it can be manipulated as easily as any mundane’s. All he’d had to do was dangle Magnus’s lost magic before him like the most persuasive carrot and his son had completed a little mission for dear old dad, leaping through the fires of the damned a second time in as many months.

He’s had Magnus in Edom for several days and he’s greedily watched as Magnus’s spirit had plummeted hour by hour until he was left in his room, pitiful and pathetic.

The shadowhunters are chasing their tails in the city. Magnus’s boyfriend is beside himself and it’s been an amusing diversion to watch as Alexander runs himself into the ground trying to find where Magnus had gone.

Everyone around him has started suggesting that it might be time to give up the search. It will be interesting to see how long it takes for Alexander to follow suit.

Asmodeus can already picture telling Magnus-- _showing_ him-- that his lover had given up on him. Yet another fickle human unworthy of his son.

They’re all the same, honestly. Asmodeus wonders if this time, Magnus will listen to him, if he’ll understand that his father is his one constant, the only person who loves him and will love him through the passing centuries.

Magnus was a fighter, he’d give his son that. 

No one understands a father’s love, Asmodeus muses. No one can understand the depth of feeling, the pride that is just as easily displaced with bitterness. Asmodeus will always welcome Magnus to Edom with open arms and his vision of the future has never wavered-- Magnus at his side as they rule together.

A legacy that strikes fear and respect and admiration and awe in the hearts of demons and mortals alike.

At first, Magnus had been furious at the perceived betrayal. Asmodeus had returned his magic to him-- what lost was so easily regained-- and locked him in his old suite in Edom until he’d seen reason. He’d watched as Magnus had been consumed with fury as he’d searched feverishly for an escape.

He’d watched as Magnus’s shoulders had slumped as he hadn’t found anything, as the days had passed and he’d remained trapped. It was for his own good and Asmodeus knows that he’ll come around eventually, that all will be forgiven as soon as Magnus realizes just how much Asmodeus loves him.

Taking a step back, Asmodeus waves away the viewing window and turns on his heel.

Magnus is breaking but he isn’t broken yet. His thoughts fill with ideas as Asmodeus walks away from his son without a backwards glance.

 

Magnus barely looks up as the doorknob turns. 

He’s angry but it’s distant. His goddamn father always has another trick up his sleeve and Magnus will never fucking learn that apples from Asmodeus are poisoned to the core.

He’d naively thought that he could regain his magic if only he completed a little mission for Asmodeus. But he’s stuck here, in this filthy ruin of a castle. 

He’s sworn time and time again that he wouldn’t return to Edom, that he’d walk away from his father and never come back but here he is like a fucking fool, playing right into Asmodeus’s hand.

It’s galling. It makes bile rise in his throat.

Magnus is stuck here until he can find a way to escape. The days have started blending together and he’s tired. It seems like Edom saps the soul right from his body. His dreams are plagued with nightmares and his thoughts turn to Alec whenever the darkness is particularly heavy.

Alec is his lighthouse in the thunderstorm. When things get too hard, when the nightmares leave him gasping and sweating, he thinks of his boyfriend.

He wonders what Alec’s doing now. He wonders how Alec’s doing. Hopefully, he’s taking care of himself and Magnus desperately hopes that Alec knows where he is.

After all, he was only supposed to be gone for an afternoon. Like an idiot, he hadn’t told anyone where he was going and his appointment book only has the ever helpful _client_ designation in the time slot.

“Magnus?”

Magnus blinks slowly before it registers who’d just spoken and then he’s sitting up so fast he’s dizzy.

Alec is standing in the doorway.

_Alexander_.

His expression is grim but Magnus sees emotion in those lovely hazel eyes. Alec’s gaze is watchful, ever the soldier, as he takes a look into the corridor before focusing back in on the room.

His bow is ready in his hand and he takes a single step inside. Magnus cringes a little as Alec studies him, eyes sweeping from head to toe. He knows that he’s a sight for sore eyes and he wishes that he could look better for Alec, even if the thought is ludicrous right now.

“Are you alright?”

Alec’s tone is curt but Magnus tells himself that Alec’s just hypervigilant right now. For heaven’s sake, the man has stormed hell to save him. Now wasn’t the time for grand declarations.

Standing, Magnus straightens his shirt. It’s both a nervous tic and an attempt to look not quite as ghastly as he’s sure he does.

Alec doesn’t seem to notice.

“I’m better now that you’ve arrived, darling. Where are the others?”

“The others,” Alec asks, frowning for a moment before his expression smooths out.

Magnus stares at him, incredulous. “Don’t tell me that you’ve come here by yourself, Alec. As happy as I am to see you, I don’t want you pulling hare-brained schemes in an attempt to rescue me.”

“I’m your boyfriend,” Alec says, shaking his head impatiently. “It’s my job to protect you.”

Something about his tone is off but Magnus can’t put a finger on it. The words are halting, frozen. They don’t fill Magnus with the warmth he’d ordinarily feel and it’s jarring.

Chalking it up to the trauma of Edom, Magnus walks toward Alec, smiling. “I assure you, Alexander, I very much appreciate this mission but let’s not be hasty. I don’t need protection. I think you’ll agree that Asmodeus is a particularly vile devil and that these are extenuating circumstances.”

Clenching the bow, Alec’s shoulders are rigid as he replies, “I don’t think you know who you need protection from.”

Magnus rears back as though he’s been slapped. “Excuse me.”

Grabbing his hand, Alec pulls him closer. His grip hurts and Magnus has to fight his instinct to pull out of the hold.

“You think your father’s the devil incarnate but he saved you from starvation, from filthy streets and certain death. His power runs through your body. He’s given you everything you could wish for and more. He lauded you over his other children and this is how you repay him? You sicken me.”

Magnus chokes on a breath as he stares into Alec’s eyes. The grip has turned punishing and he feels bone grind against bone as a dull ache starts in his wrist.

“What,” he whispers. Swallowing painfully, Magnus bites his tongue. He hopes the pain will clear his head or awaken him if this is yet another nightmare but it doesn’t _do_ anything, it doesn’t change anything and Magnus is left standing in front of Alec as confusion and dread swirl around him.

“I don’t love you,” Alec says coldly. “You were a convenience, a way to test the waters but I’m tiring of you. Do you really think that a shadowhunter could want a warlock, could love something half-demon? Did you think I could? Yeah,” Alec says softly as his nails dig into the softness of Magnus’s skin, leaving bruising crescents in their wake. “I bet you did. And that makes you stupid as well as weak.”

His stomach turns and it’s all Magnus can do to swallow the bile that scalds his throat. The words pierce him, splintering his heart into a thousand pieces before crumbling it to dust.

“Alexander,” he mutters hoarsely. “I don’t--”

Before he can finish the sentence, something’s happening. Alec’s face blurs, morphs. His body changes, leans out as thin fingers dig into him.

And then it’s not Alec standing in front of him but Asmodeus.

Everything crashes down on Magnus in an instant. It’s a burden that bows his shoulders, that makes them tremble as he tries to keep his knees from buckling at the realization that Alec was never with him, that escape is as far away as ever.

“You bastard,” Magnus hisses and recoils as Asmodeus smiles warmly.

“You’re welcome, son.”

Biting back a retort, Magnus can only ask, “What are you talking about? Why the hell should I be thanking you for pulling such a heinous stunt?”

“You think that was a stunt?” Asmodeus’s mouth forms a moue of distress. “That was a lesson, my boy. Alexander Lightwood is the latest in a long line of self-righteous shadowhunters who think it sport to hunt our kind. You are nothing to him but a willing body and it pains me to see you sink so low. You need help, Magnus.”

“And what,” Magnus bites out. “I’m supposed to believe that you’re the kind of help I need?”

“I’m your father, boy. I’ve only ever had your best interests at heart. Forget about Lightwood and come home. Return to my side and we will forget about mortals who are beneath us, who could be so easily crushed under the heel of our boot. You’re made for better things, bigger things, than to degrade yourself with a shadowhunter and pander to people who will never know the kind of power you possess-- and would condemn you if they ever found out.”

“No,” Magnus says. “I will never forsake everything that makes me human just to turn into _you_. I made that clear centuries ago and that will never change, not as long as there’s a heart beating in my chest.”

Asmodeus doesn’t say anything for a moment, studying Magnus with eyes that make Magnus’s skin crawl. Alec might love them, might’ve tried his damnedest to make Magnus love them, but every time he looks into his unglamoured gaze, Magnus is reminded of his father and of a past that haunts him, even after centuries.

“We’ll see about that,” Asmodeus finally says. “Sooner or later, we all must return to the houses of our fathers. You’re lucky that yours is so benevolent, Magnus. I know it will take time for you to come around.”

He steps closer and Magnus stands still through sheer force of will as his father tilts his head up with a finger under his chin.

“Lucky for us both then that we have all the time in the world, isn’t it?”

With that, he turns on his heel and leaves as suddenly as he’d arrived. Magnus stumbles back as the door closes and sags onto the bed. It feels like he collapses in on himself as he bends over, burying his head between his knees and trying to get his breathing under control.

God damn Asmodeus for wearing Alec’s face and damn him for believing it.

“Jesus Christ,” Magnus whispers, throat working as he gasps out a breath. He’s shivering, cold even in the infinite warmth of Edom. 

He knows-- damn him, he _knows_ \-- that Alec didn’t say those words, that Alec hadn’t flung those vile words at him.

He can’t stop repeating them, though.

_I don’t love you_.

_Did you really think that I could love a demon?_

Burying his hands in his hair, Magnus grabs fistfuls and _pulls_ until his scalps stings, until the pain clears the fog.

Edom is nothing but tricks, but smoke and mirrors, and Magnus has been away for far too long-- yet never long enough-- if he’s forgotten that painfully learned lesson.

Alec’s out there and he’s looking for Magnus. Magnus needs to remember that, to believe it, otherwise he’ll go insane and when Alec really does find him, there will be nothing of worth to bring back.

Magnus crawls into bed and lays on his side, tense as if waiting for another blow, this one fatal.

He’s still in the quiet of the room, all of his thoughts focused on Alec, on the love that burns bright between them. It will be his saving grace, that much Magnus knows without a shadow of a doubt. He plans and he plots but Asmodeus won't let him go so easily again and Magnus despairs of finding a way out without help.

His boyfriend’s voice is a soothing background in his mind as Magnus stares at the chipped, ruined paint of his bedroom wall.

There’s something dark lingering under the surface, though. Magnus tries to ignore it but it seems to spread like ink on parchment.

It stains his heart even as he fights against it.

 

Asmodeus watches as Magnus breaks a little more over the next weeks. The next time he’d masqueraded as Alec, Magnus had fallen for it again.

Along with the time after that, and the time after _that_.

He’d watched the light go out a little more each time Magnus’s hopes were dashed. Every time he heard Alec denounce him, reject him, Magnus grew a little smaller, his eyes a little more hollow.

Remembering Magnus’s vow-- _not as long as there’s a heart beating in my chest_ \-- Asmodeus works, slowly, painstakingly, to grind the offensive sentiment into dust.

By the time Asmodeus is done with him, love will be an anathema to Magnus. All that will be left will be power and strength and a duty to his father.

Asmodeus loves Magnus but he doesn’t need that love returned. No, he just needs Magnus with him. Whatever that takes, Asmodeus is more than willing to do.

With that thought in mind, Asmodeus closes the window on Magnus, who was babbling to his imaginary love about Tokyo of all things.

It’s less than a thought to shift form into Alexander as Asmodeus reaches for the door to Magnus’s quarters.

By all the demons in hell, Asmodeus will break Magnus if it’s the last thing he does.

There is no escape. There is no respite.

Magnus is his and it’s time that the world remembered that-- that his son remembered that it was _him_ , Asmodeus, who was responsible for his very existence.

Opening the door, Alec is greeted with a dull stare. Magnus tries his best to ignore him but like a moth to a candle, he’s pulled into the scene for the dozenth time, hope flaring bright before being mercilessly crushed.

Alexander will be Magnus’s downfall.

Asmodeus will make sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on tumblr or twitter @carmenlire!


End file.
